


The Worst is Yet to Come

by WhereverMySITakesMe



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (I think they still count as kids), (They're about 14 at the beginning), But not on an actual pole, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kid Pietro Maximoff, Kid Wanda Maximoff, Pole Dancing, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Self-Harm maybe?, Starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 20:41:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7329961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhereverMySITakesMe/pseuds/WhereverMySITakesMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kostas had been smugly delighted when Wanda and Pietro had turned up at his smelly, dirty, loud club, explaining that they had reconsidered their decision. He had told the two of them when they would be working and what they were expected to do before giving them both a plate of meat and potatoes to eat. It was the first time she had felt full since she was ten years old.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Worst is Yet to Come

Kostas watched as two children entered the alley. They were both barefoot and had no coats. The girl's fingers looked stiff and awkward as she struggled to untie the bag of rubbish on the ground in front of her. Behind her the boy pulled another bag off the top of the pile. Most of the poor streets had heaps of rotting rubbish piled up somewhere- whoever was meant to be removing them had given up weeks ago. No one blamed them- their wages hadn't been paid for several months.

"Pietro!" The girl held up a bag containing two mouldy pieces of bread, looking overjoyed with her find. She handed one to her brother and they both tore into the food, not bothering to remove the mould. They looked desperately hungry. Good. He liked them desperate. 

Kostas approached them, casually "Are you two orphans or runaways?"

"What is it to you?" The boy, Pietro, folded his arms defensively. The girl stayed half hidden behind him but watched Kostas suspiciously.

"I'm trying to give your sister a job." They looked similar enough to be related and were too close in age for one to be a parent.

"What job?" The girl looked up, eagerly. Street kids never tried to pretend to be anything other than desperate, so Kostas never tried to beat around the bush. There was no point, after all."Entertaining the soldiers for me. It pays well." 

"You want her to sleep with the American pigs?" The boy snarled.

"Some of them are Russian, actually. And she does not have to sleep with them. My girls only-"

"Go to hell." The girl interrupted, equally furious.

"You'll be there sooner than me, darling"

"I think you'll be there pretty quickly if you don't leave us alone," The boy said threateningly. The scrawny, malnourished, barely teenaged, boy.

"I'd give you food and board. Think it over. You know where to find me." He walked away before he had to listen to anymore laughable death threats, certain he'd see them again. 

***  
A muffled noise woke Wanda from her light sleep. She shuddered and pulled her threadbare jumper tighter around herself. The doorway she and Pietro were sleeping in provided shelter from the snow, but she was still bitterly cold. The noise that had woken her continued and she turned to see Pietro repeatedly hitting the back of his head against the wall behind him.

"What are you doing?" She whispered. 

Pietro's eyes opened and he looked at her pathetically before taking his head in his hands. "It hurts so much."

"I know, I know." She wrapped her arms around him and pulled his poor head against her chest so he couldn't try to hurt himself any more. Wanda had had her fair share of nights kept awake by stomach pains, headaches, nausea, whatever form her constant near-starvation took, but it was worse when it was Pietro who was suffering. He was her big brother and he always played the protector.

How much longer can we keep this up?" His voice was cracked. "No one is throwing away food anymore and it is only going to get worse."

"Go back to sleep." Wanda just stroked his hair. She didn't know the answer to his question.

***  
Wanda flailed, trying to regain her balance. It quickly proved futile and she fell, headlong, off the table. Again. At least this time she didn't land in anyone's lap. Three days was no where near long enough to learn how to walk in high heels on top of a rickety table, let alone dance. Three days wasn't long enough to get used to any part of her new job. Nor was it long enough to stop wondering if she had made the wrong decision. 

Kostas had been smugly delighted when she and Pietro had turned up at his smelly, dirty, loud club, explaining that they had reconsidered their decision. He had told the two of them when they would be working and what they were expected to do before giving them both a plate of meat and potatoes to eat. It was the first time she had felt full since she was ten years old.

"Commie bitch spilt my drink!" Wanda was dazed from her fall, but she could hear a soldier shouting at her. Just like the rest of them he was loud, brash, entitled. And essential for her and Pietro's survival, she had to remember that.

"I sorry" She purred, deliberately speaking in a heavier accent and broken English. She didn't like using her normal voice around them, didn't like letting them see any of the real her. "I do special dance for you, make better."

He smiled lewdly, looking over her body. He would have been undressing her with his eyes had she been wearing anything more substantial than lace underwear that didn't fit her emaciated body and made her look all of twelve years old. Oh God, that was probably the point.

The man sat back on his stool, waiting for her to start. No one did anything about the beer on the table and it would still be there in the morning, sticky and congealed, when Pietro came to clean. It comforted her that he was always so close. He came to check on her every couple of hours and had sworn that if anyone so much as laid a finger on her he would break every bone in their body. 

***  
"Don't do that!" Wanda tried to push Pietro's hands away. "You're making it worse." 

"You are bleeding, I have to clean it." Pietro tried to bathe the injuries on her chest and face as gently as she could while she continued to hiss in pain. "I think your ribs are broken. What did they do? Punch you?"

She shook her head. "They stamped on me with their boots."

"How could they do that?" He was shocked by the cruelty, even though he could hardly have expected any less from American soldiers.

"Because they can. Because they are pigs. Because they think I am a dog." Wanda started to cry.

Pietro put down the cloth and water he had been holding and held her head against his chest. He rocked her gently, trying not to move her injured chest. "Shh."

"They think because I dance for them they can do anything they want to me." 

"No." Pietro's eyes widened in horror "No. Wanda they didn't..." Wanda just cried harder. He tried to lie her back on the ground as gently as possible. "I'm going to kill them. They can't have gone far."

"Pietro, no!" She grabbed at his shirt as he tried to stand. "Don't leave me alone."

"I will not be gone long, I swear"

"They had guns! If you go after them...you'll be gone forever. Don't do that to me"

Pietro was silent for a few moments. He was still burning with rage but he would not leave Wanda bleeding on the ground. He crouched down next to his sister again. "Alright. I am not going to go anywhere without you." He gave up on trying to tend to her injuries and wrapped his jacket further around her. "I'm going to carry you inside, alright? It's going to hurt, little one."

***  
Pietro woke up exhausted on the morning of his eighteenth birthday, just as he did every single day. Not exactly surprising given that he was working ten hours a day, lugging crates around a warehouse for pittance. Apparently half of Sokovia was desperate for money and the other half were more than willing to take advantage of that. But it was going to be worth it when he had earned enough for himself and Wanda to leave the club, rent a room to stay in and live off his wages, now that he was old enough to get a proper job, one the paid the legal minimum, maybe more. Or Wanda could work as a cleaner or something. Anything else. Over the years, his pittance had built up to a substantial amount. If it was not enough, it soon would be. He had decided to get Wanda a present to celebrate her birthday and tell her everything.

He dressed quietly, careful not to wake his twin. Wanda slept during the day and worked all night while he worked all day and slept at night, when he wasn't checking on her. He would have watched all night long but Kostas had said the soldiers found Pietro constantly watching them "off putting" and had banned Pietro from spending more than five minutes downstairs. And Wanda had said that Pietro had to sleep at some point, which was probably true, even though she went at least thirty six hours without sleep whenever they spent all day protesting. It might seem hypocritical, but their protests were probably what was keeping her sane.

He walked towards the market near the centre of town and towards a jewellery stall."How much for this?" he asked, holding up a necklace with a red stone that Wanda would love.

"Two dollars."

"I only have Hryvnia.”

The man snorted "Then go. If you can't pay in dollars you can't pay."

"Hryvnia is our currency!" Pietro said in exasperation.

"I don't know what rock you've been living under but Hryvnia are worth nothing and will be worth half of nothing tomorrow. We only use dollars now."

Pietro realised that he and Wanda were only given food and the soldiers paid dollars. Neither of them had been to the market in years. He dug all the money he had out of his pockets and dumped it on the table "The paper is worth as much as the necklace." He stormed away before the man could object and didn't bother going to the warehouse. If they needed their crates moved they could pay someone in dollars for it. He walked back slowly trying to stay calm and not to think of how many hours he had wasted or that his dream of a happy life for Wanda was looking increasingly impossible. He tried instead to think about how the constant ache in his back, arms and shoulders would go, not that that even mattered to him.

By the time he got back to their room, it was almost time for them to eat before the girls started their shift. He sat down on the bed next to Wanda, holding up the necklace and smiling "Happy birthday, little one."


End file.
